


Fallout

by RainySpringMorning



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Gen, Post Beach Divorce, Post X-Men: First Class, Revised Version
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 03:44:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7084351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainySpringMorning/pseuds/RainySpringMorning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles is hospitalized after the Cuban Missile Crisis. Revised edition of another of my stories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fallout

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Different](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1690409) by [RainySpringMorning](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainySpringMorning/pseuds/RainySpringMorning). 



> This is a revision of my very first published work on AO3. It deals with the immediate aftermath of Charles losing the use of his legs on the beach in Cuba (post-beach divorce, if you will) and is written very closely to the original story I published, excepting that it has been expanded. The original story was written very shortly after I saw DoFP at the theatre and was a spawn-of-the-moment work that I hardly revised or checked for errors. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this little rewrite! Cheers! 
> 
> Disclaimer: X-Men and all associated characters belong to 20th Century Fox. This work is mine.

One minute Moira and the others are looming overhead, tittering worriedly as they try to figure out a way to lift Charles off the ground and build some sort of makeshift stretcher out of the wrecked jet, and the next Azazel is bursting into existence and snatching Charles in his arms to disappear as suddenly as he appeared in a puff of reddish-tinted smoke. Charles finds himself in the pristine sterility of a hospital before he keens in pain, his back throbbing horribly at the pain his nerves can register, and several nurses and doctors are suddenly around him, exclaiming at his abrupt appearance from literally nowhere while shouting to clear the surgery room at the sight of the blood beginning to pool under Charles on the scrubbed white tile.

At one point or another Charles presumes he blanked out from either shock or pain, because in the next moment he’s stirring groggily awake in a quiet hospital room with a nurse tinkering with his I.V. tube on one side while a figure occupies the visitor’s chair. The yellow-and-navy suit has been replaced by a thin hospital gown patterned with tiny dotted spirals, and Charles feels too exhausted to lift his head. An air tube tickles under his nose. The nurse injects a sedative into the I.V. line and Charles turns his head to look at the figure seated in front of the window, and he feels a sudden jolt of surprise as he takes in the unmistakable shape of the helmet in the occupant’s lap. His eyes rise to the face he can’t see, hair tousled from running his hand through hair flattened by the helmet’s wear, dark against the bright sunlight streaming in the window. Charles stretches out feebly with his powers to touch his mind, and only has time to caress its outermost reaches before the sedative works its magic too soon and drags him into a mindless, thoughtless sleep.

The beach is endless, one side white sands and the other an endless blue that meets the sky without a line to divide them. The feeling of isolated desolation is nearly sickening, until Charles glimpses the slender point of a single individual in the distance. He squints, struggling to make out who it is, but he already knows as his mind leaps out and curls around that invitingly distant brain he knows so intimately. He’s becoming smaller, the space between them expanding to impossible reaches, and Charles begins to run in the hope he can close the void before Erik is lost to him forever. He stumbles and falls, crashing hard onto hand and knee, but when he raises his head he’s made no progress that he can see. He shouts as loud as he can and tries to climb back to his feet, but his legs are useless and give out under him. He collapses in the sand, held upright by shaking arms, but he subjects himself to dragging his inadequate body along inch by inch across the sand that provides no handhold and offers no purchase.

Erik grows smaller and smaller, at last winking out of sight for good and Charles slams his fist into the sand with an anguished cry, and pulls out of sleep with a shuddering gasp.

It’s not until a few minutes have passed that Charles realizes that he’s been staring at the chair Erik had been seated in. The frame is lightweight steel with stainless steel screws holding it together, several of which have been unscrewed and melted into shapeless lumps on the floor. In fact, it looks as though the entire chair has suffered a beating, the polished metal rippled and brazen with harsh lines and dents. Even in the moonlight, the abuse the chair has suffered is a stark portrait of the bottled emotions Charles had hardly detected from Erik’s mind before he fell into unnatural slumber, helmetless and bare, exposed for the taking, and Charles curses the precision of modern medicine.

Night falls but sleep refuses to come for Charles, no matter how much he devotes to using long-practiced techniques to ease himself into a relaxed state. He stares at the ceiling instead and listens to the heart monitor chirp, keeping with the subtle pulse in his breast, slow and rhythmic. The moon rises high enough for him to see, a full disc of silver light, and Charles hears a strange sound nearby, a little like a flame being extinguished. His eyes swivel nervously and land on the dark silhouette in the corner, so utterly familiar that feeling wells up in his throat. Charles forces it down as the silhouette separates from the shadows, becoming its own form, and steely-blue eyes blink behind the concealing shape of the ugly helmet.

Accusation must be clear on Charles’ face because Erik, very unlike him, sits on the edge of the bed next to him and takes his hand, careful to not disrupt the I.V. Charles is wary as the metallokinetic struggles for words that refuse to come, finally uttering a very soft, “I’m so sorry, Charles.” The magnitude of remorse is so thick that it’s hard to believe his apology isn’t real, but Charles is already one step ahead, proving the helmet useless as his fingers tighten around the hand in his, a connection of skin that reveals the real – and disappointing – truth.

“If he was,” Charles manages, not meaning to sound as harsh as he does, “then he would be here, Raven.”

Her form ripples to a soft youthful face and flowing blonde hair that ripples like molten silver down her back in the moonlight. Fathomless eyes meet his, dark with sorrow. “He was here,” she says, pulling the helmet from her head and setting it aside. “How could you tell it was me?”

“It appears I’m a lot stronger than I look,” Charles can’t help a hint of amusement to soften his voice. “I suppose because I was holding your hand, it made reading your mind that much easier. If it were truly him, on the other hand…”

“You could have stopped him,” Raven says. “If the helmet means nothing, then you could have stopped him from using those missiles. You could have made him do anything you want. He would’ve had no choice but to obey you.”

“How could I?” Charles asks, a little in disbelief. “Raven, why should I bend him to my will, when I was clearly wrong? Erik was right about humans hunting us, even if we proved ourselves as the better men. And he ensured that we will forever be the enemy to the human population, and them to us.”

Raven looks surprised. “You meant to let Erik destroy those ships?”

“No, I meant…” Charles hesitates. It’s far too late to reveal the truth, knowing how he controlled Raven for years and almost tried to do the same to Erik, with no luck. “What I meant doesn’t matter anymore. I spent years denying you of a freedom I couldn’t offer. You were right; I wanted to be a part of this world, not against it. I will always try to unite us as one people, and you – Erik – you will always stand apart.”

“I suppose that makes us enemies by definition,” Raven says coldly.

“I wish it didn’t. I wish a great many things, and I’m sorry I can’t be the Charles you wanted me to be,” Charles takes her hand and squeezes lightly, skimming the sadness on her mind. “I don’t want you to hate me for all I denied you, Raven. I want you to be happy and find your own place in this world, and if it means being by Erik’s side… so be it.”

“For once, I’m not sure what I want,” Raven admits. “I want to be part of this world without people staring at me like I’m some kind of freak, and they proved it today. I can’t forgive them for that.”

“There are some out there who would stand by us,” Charles says. “I’ve seen into their minds.”

“But how many?” Raven urges. “They know we exist now. How many more who were once indifferent choose to fear us instead? How many of us will be lost because of what the humans chose? We tried to save them, and they still wanted us dead.”

“There is hope for the future. One _possible_ future…”

“No, Charles. I can’t believe that,” Raven stands smoothly, shaking her head. “I won’t stand by and wait for a better tomorrow when hundreds of our mutant brothers and sisters die in the process. I have to help them.”

“By killing humans?” Charles exclaims. “Has Erik twisted your mind-”

“No, it’s my choice. He only showed me what it means to have what mutants need in order to survive,” Raven corrects sharply.

Charles frowns. “Why did you come here, Raven? To coerce me into Erik’s dark scheming? I will stand by my allegiance to humans and mutants alike, but I won’t choose a side. There _is_ no side to choose.”

“Not for you; but there is for me.” Raven’s skin ripples as she mutates to her natural form, slender and the darkest shade of blue in the night. Her eyes blink yellow. “I came to say goodbye.”

“Your decision will bring you nothing but suffering,” Charles warns. “Don’t do this. My Raven would’ve never been so foolish.”

“She was never yours to begin with, Charles! This is why we will never stand on the same side. You’re ignorant to others and blind to the truth. Erik sees what you will never see – the humans will make sure our lives are miserable, just as they have for years already!”

Charles’ temper snaps and he struggles up onto his elbows, sending the machines wailing as his heart jumps erratically with his building anger. He doesn’t see the second form in the shadows behind Raven, wrapping one arm around her shoulders with a possessive air, prehensile tail lashing.

“I’ve made my decision, Charles. We are different from the humans,” Raven says with a note of finality. “Don’t forget it.”

Dark crimson smoke fills the void where she stood, and Charles gazes into it, brimming with fury and aching regret. A nurse comes in and does her best to settle him back into bed, and he convinces her that he merely woke from a nightmare and was confused about where he was. The door clicks softly in her stead, leaving Charles with his thoughts…

At the foot of the bed rests the helmet, boring holes that penetrate Charles deeper than any bullet and, unable to push it off the side and out of sight, he closes his eyes against the wave of engulfing grief and abandonment.


End file.
